An Antidote
For Ange and anyone else appalled by that last post, here’s an extended excerpt from Isaac Rosenfeld’s 1956 talk “On the Role of the Writer and the Little Magazine,” which Scott McLemee had a nice piece on recently, and which, if you’re academied (or lucky) you can read the rest of in the new Chicago Review archive on JSTOR:
I am used to thinking of the writer, then, as a man who stands at a certain extreme, at a certain remove from society. He stands over against the commercial culture, the business enterprise, that whole fantastic make-believe world which some people would like us to believe is the real world. Of course it can’t be that for the writer.
…
Now I was going to talk about the role of the writer, and it seems to me that the role of the writer unquestionably is to resist the major amalgamation between extremes that takes place today. To resist it, or to be conscious of it if he must come to terms with it, because even poverty costs $3500 a year. If he’s got to accept it in some respect, at most let him have no more than an ironic affiliation. Let it not go beyond that. But then I don’t think this really defines the role of the writer to say that he must resist lest he be swallowed. It is not just a matter of resisting temptation and I am sure that an honest man can be virtuous on $3500 a week as well as $3500 a year. At least I have always been willing to give it a try. But what is really bad is that when he enters the symbol manipulation industries, at that moment he enters a life that is presumably real but really is not. It has nothing to do with the realities which he, as a writer, deals with and which he must live in all the time. I should say to the extent that there is a role for the writer today, the writer is better off without it. I mean by this the sort of role that society recognizes, the sort of role that society confers upon the writer. You have talent, you can push a typewriter or a pencil, you are an idea man, a livewire; we have room for you, we can use you. That sort of role he is much better off without. The sort of role the writer does have, that he has naturally and inevitably, is a kind of anti-role. It is not a social role though there is need for that sort of thing in society.
…
The role of the writer generally is the role of the artist in any society, especially our own, which welcomes the writer who is willing to play the unreal role; the role of the writer is always to be aware of this and to stay away from it.

Admirable, Rosenfeld surely was; and yet this stance is apparently what did him in. Along with a life that was too short, that is.
How do you figure, Don? You can blame antiestablishment sentiment for a lot of things, but I don’t think a heart attack at 38 is one of them.
It’s not so bad to make a living with one’s pen. It’s bad, tho, to make a cottage industry out of an already parasitic cottage industry, ALC style. Poor SA.
Here’s how I figure, since you asked, and because I expressed myself so unclearly, it seems: his early death and his stance, in unfortunate combination, ensured that his work would be curtailed prematurely, and virtually ignored.
Ah, I see. Thanks for explaining.
Rosenfeld’s talk anticipates La Dolce Vita by four years, by the way.